precarious for us the school the month of June is a special month.
For us the school year begins again upwards, in sorrow, thrown into a school one or two days before the door is open for boys. A school biologically incapable, as always, to welcome the newcomers, to transfer they get the knowledge, people and organization. We often
confirmation comes only after months. November, even December. It often startles his salary, which had finally got the right rhythm.
And our desire to work to build a better school collides with our role forcibly backseat necessarily subordinate. Who is today but tomorrow who knows. And we fight every day, just because we do not wrap the precariousness as a numbness as a disease. And do not go out ideas and ideals, aspirations and projects. And they were not in vain, to no avail.
For us, the school's precarious June is a special month. The doors are closed but we stay. We feel like all the others now. We breathe, we too, in the staff room, corridors, classrooms, acrid smell of bitter resignation, surrender, surrender. Or, sometimes, cautious satisfaction with undisguised pride. The faults are ours, even our merits.
And we feel richer for these four weeks that we still have before the end, before greeting the extreme. A time when maybe we could leave one last, precious track. Playing with precision and attention to our last card. Friendships and alliances to keep then at the start. Completing the many things just mentioned, Only sketchy. And to hear that after all it was a good school year.
The June 1st.
Today begins our month.
Today we begin the month of precarious.
